I told myself that i would never, ever, try it in my entire life, like most people do. However, this is not always the case. Sometimes people experiment once, and let that be it, bravo. But for me it wasn't so simple.
I first tried it when i was 16, i had previously been using many other drugs, but not meth. This is where i started the month long binge, that landed me in a woman's shelter, that landed me in the hospital on an involentary extended stay. i was alone at the shelter, i was the youngest there that's for sure.
All i could do was smoke meth untill my heart felt like it was being carved out of my chest. The pattern went that i would binge for 3-4 days and crash for two, typically. I did this for 5 weeks.
I eventually ended up tampering with needles, of which i'm not sure if they were clean or not. It's a thought that scares me, but i know its possible, i may be infected. I always had the choice, but it only takes one to take all the others away.
I awoke one morning to staff tugging at my sheet, they had informed me that one of my roomates(eva) and i were being discharged for using needles in the building. So here i was a 16 year old girl, poor and homeless, family for me at that time was non existent.
I remember taking out a razor blade and cutting up my left arm, but the blade was not sufficiently sharp enough, so i plucked out another from a gilette razor.
With all of my anger and hatred and sadness transfered into my fingertips, i sliced my right arm. The blade tore through all layers of skin, through the flesh and just grazed my tendant.
I could see these two strips of white clearly, i was so scared, i have never been so scared in my entire life.. I did not want to die liek that, on the dirty floor of my room at the shelter.
I kept pushing both sides of the skin where it was seperated, inwards so it wouldn't be so gaping, i would have died in a few hours from infection in that crack house if i didn't have an ambulance called.
When the bandages were removed at the hospital, by then the fat tissue had started protruding out from under the skin, there was lots of crimson red, bubbley flesh. I spend over 6 hours in that secluded room, eventually getting stitches, and huge syringe being pushed into my exposed muscle mutiple times.
I have been a cutter and drug user for about 5-6 years now, and i can almost say with certainty, i never want to be there again, but like all of us well already know, it lives on with us always.
The story can be broadened so much more, but i felt like i needed to write it out
